I have a new goal in life: get it on in this horizontal shower (thanks to Drew for sharing the link). All the hot water action of shower sex without the gymnastics or single-nozzle issues. Sign me up.
As for this week’s mailbag, some of the subjects are: Peyton Manning, transitioning to a keeper league, meeting girls in your teens, casual sex in your 20s, the amygdala, and an email so eminently douchey that I suspect it was written by Tom Brady: Troll Genius. Read on for more.
O AN HE SEXY
You know, I get cutting off the sleeves of a sweatshirt to free your wrists from the constraints of elastic, but cutoff sweatpants? C’mon Bill, you’re just trolling us now. Athletic shorts exist, and they are comfortable, and they are available from NFL-approved clothing sponsor Reebok. You needn’t show us so much thigh…
…but we’re glad you did anyway! GRRRR 2 HOTT 4 INDY! Sexy Friday be ALL UP IN YOUR GRILL with MILF-hunting football acumen. Your move, Coughlin.
It’s February! Almost time for the Super Bowl! YAY! Valentine’s Day is around the corner! BOOOO!
This year for Valentine’s Day, I’m putting in crazy-long hours at the Westminster Dog Show on the 13th and 14th, so I can’t possibly take my fiancee out to dinner in a packed restaurant of two-tops populated with overdressed people who don’t put enough energy into their relationships the other 364 days of the year. SHUCKS. Sorry, honey. I owe you one (1) romantic evening of takeout and “The Wire.”
Let’s get to your questions.
I’ve watched tennis and NBA basketball today: if these aren’t dire straits, then I don’t know what is. In that light, the Pro Bowl is a welcome, albeit neutered, version of NFL football. We malign the Pro Bowl, and rightly so, but it’s better than in years past: at least it’s a pointless distraction the week before the Super Bowl, rather than after.
Of course, there will be no Giants or Patriots in tonight’s game, which may benefit the NFC slightly more: Ben Roethlisberger will start at QB for the AFC, and the depth chart quickly gets thin after that. The NFC, of course, won’t miss Eli Manning, as Aaron Rodgers, Drew Brees, and Cam Newton will share snaps behind center. That’s about as much analysis as I can force myself to muster. Meh.
So anyway, if you’re a die-hard glutton for even a tufurkey version of an NFL game, this is the thread for you. Use our new commenting system to let everyone know how much you hate Chris Berman’s Hawaiian shirt.
As you’ve seen or heard by now, the Indy Star had a lengthy interview with Peyrton Manning earlier this week in which Ol’ Battleship wasn’t exactly optimistic about his future with the Colts. None of it was particularly inflammatory, but owner Jim Irsay called Manning a “politician” and wished that he’d kept his feelings “in the family.” Just when it looked like the wheels might come off, the Colts today released a joint statement from Irsay and Manning, who say that they have a “great relationship” — at least until March, when Manning’s $28 million option bonus is due.
And so, with the inevitable break-up looming, this Friday’s musical selection goes out to Andrew Luck. Don’t worry, Pey-Pey, it’s cool for a guy to sing it:
Hi folks. I’m sick as hell this week, so the answers will be a bit more abrupt than usual. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you, it’s just a side effect of not being able to breathe through my nose, all of my muscles hurting, and my head feeling like it weighs 30 pounds. Let’s just guzzle some more Emergen-C and power through this.
KSK reader Rachel sent in this photo of her brother Sam, who I would guess is pulling for the Giants in the Super Bowl. The beard facemask is a bit much, though. A simple chinstrap beard is the most effective way of telling people you’re a Giants fan.
It’s January 19th, and as your internet-dwelling life coach, I’m inclined to remind those of you in a relationship that there is less than one month until Valentines Day. Now, you and I and everyone else knows that Valentines Day is a load of crap, but that doesn’t give any of us a free pass. You still have to do something romantic or buy her a gift or some shit because OTHER women are being treated to dinner and chocolates and jewelry. That’s the crux of Valentines Day, really. It’s not about a woman having a healthy, happy relationship — it’s about showing those other bitches how fantastic her love life is.
That’s why I recommend sending flowers to your lady’s place of employment. Everybody ends up happy: she gets flowers (BITCHES LOVE FLOWERS), I don’t have to show up wearing a tie anywhere, and all her co-workers get jealous and wish they had thoughtful men in their lives. Well, I guess not everybody ends up happy. But close enough.
Let’s get to your emails.
INEVITABLE BUT MILDLY ENTERTAINING: NMA offers its take on the Colts firing Jim Caldwell and Rob Lowe tweeting about Peyton Manning’s retirement. Little-known fact: Manning’s neck injury was the result of a lightning strike.
FLIPPING OUT. Dust off your five-year-old “Bengals are criminals jokes”: Jerome Simpson has reportedly been indicted for trafficking marijuana. That’s a Class D felony, 1-5 years in the clink, and the sternest possible frown from Roger Goodell.
LOL BIDEN: Joe Biden told a bunch of 49ers fans that the Giants were going to the Super Bowl, because the San Francisco Giants are a team that exists. Let Obama handle the sports stuff, big guy.
AND MEDIOCRE SKATEBOARD RIDER, TOO. A Ravens fan complained to the organization that Joe Flacco was riding a skateboard. You’re doing it wrong, Joe. Champions ride scooters.
It’s hard to discern precisely why Jim Caldwell’s firing makes me happy. I hate the Colts, after all, and I found it endlessly amusing to watch a man hired to stay out of Peyton Manning’s way suddenly thrust into the role of helming a team without Peyton Manning. His passive observation of the Colts’ unbridled awfulness will remain one of my favorite visuals of the 2011 season; the Colts may as well have been coached by a large toadstool or an ottoman.
So why enjoy his dismissal? It’s a relief to sane observers of the NFL — a welcome affirmation that an organization worth hundreds of millions of dollars is perhaps not captained by blind inbreds, as we’d begun to suspect with every passing day that Caldwell kept his job. There’s a recession, after all, and we’re capitalists: we’re happy that Jim Caldwell is fired because he DESERVED to be fired. Love or hate the Colts, the job should go to a productive member of society. (I say that now, but I actually hope the Colts hire someone equally terrible.)
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